


A kiss to build a dream on

by WilwyWaylan



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, And coffee, M/M, Modern Era, cute fluff, pure and undiluted fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-29
Updated: 2018-06-29
Packaged: 2019-05-30 13:58:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15098069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WilwyWaylan/pseuds/WilwyWaylan
Summary: Enjolras has a real problem : he finds the new guy very, very interesting and even more.





	A kiss to build a dream on

**Author's Note:**

> This started with the prompt "things you said in your sleep". And then I was bitten by the plot bunny. And this happened.

The first thing that Enjolras noticed when he first met Jehan's good friend, was his very firm handshake. So firm, in fact, that he was tempted to check discreetly on the state of his fingers. But he didn't. Instead, he immediatly got swept in a profound discussion with the man about discrimination in the workplace. They stopped when Combeferre tapped him on the shoulder as he left, and that's only then that Enjolras realized that it was one in the morning and he'd spent all evening talking with his new friend, listening to him intently. Everyone had left, even Grantaire who usually was the last one to go home. They parted ways in front of the Musain, now closed and dark, but not before Enjolras managed to get the man's word that he would come to the next meeting.

He came to the next meeting, and the one after. Soon, Feuilly had become a fixture of their association, and even more, of their little group. He discussed art, litterature and philosophy with Grantaire and Jehan, medicine, sciences and the mysteries of nature with Joly, Musichetta and Combeferre, play-fought with Bahorel and Eponine and with them (or rather, fought), danced with Courf and let him play with his hair, talked in several languages with Marius, listened to all of Bossuet's puns, even the worst ones, and made a few of his own, cooked with Cosette and suggested her several recipes. He knitted everyone gloves and hats and scarves, illustrated Jehan's poems, took some boxing lessons with Bahorel and Grantaire, and baked Polish goods for their meetings.

And of course, he had long conversations with Enjolras, about the political or societal issue at hand. Enjolras was always pleased with those discussions, because Feuilly had very strong, interesting opinions, and his arguments were well-thought and precise. And he could talk about everything under the sun. Usually, their conversations started about the issues they faced or wanted to adress, and quickly moved from there, jumping from subject to subject. They could talk like that for hours, and frequently, they did, starting after the meeting and going on until they were finally thrown out of the Musain.

Enjolras loved those moments, when they had dealt with the _sujets du jour_ , gotten everything ready for their next meeting, planned petitions, actions and rallies, and they finally unwound. The others enjoyed that time in their own ways, discussing and making fools of themselves - well, for some, making fools of themselves _was_  their hobby -, playing cards or unwinding in various ways of various intensity. Feuilly was usually sitting at the back, watching the others. Sometimes, when he felt energetic enough, he joined them. On those days, Enjolras chatted with Courfeyrac and Combeferre, or watched Grantaire draw.

But often, Feuilly was content with staying back and watch. Enjolras poured them two cups of coffee and joined him. He had had troubles breaking the ice the first time ; talking was easy in front of a crowd, being full of passion and fury about a societal issue. But when they were just the two of them, he found out to be... way harder. Especially when Feuilly was looking at him like that without smiling. Just attentive golden eyes set on him. And just on him. He had tried to ask him his stance on the last work laws. What had come out of his mouth didn't really sound like any sound a human voice could make. Luckily, Feuilly not only didn't mind, but had seemed to understand what he was trying to communicate, and answered in jest. And soon they were caught up in a deep conversation.

They did it again the next time. And the one after that. Soon, it became a routine, a routine Enjolras appreciated immensely. Feuilly was good company : never judging, never screaming, never setting things on fire. He always talked in the same even tone, and if he swore a lot in colorful ways, sometimes in other languages, and if sometimes his voice became cutting as steel, he never screamed or yelled. And he had oh so many interesting opinions ! Enjolras could have stayed like that, listening to him for hours. The end of their little sessions left him wanting for more, always.

But how could he have more ? They already spent hours talking, after all meetings. They couldn't start eating at their meeting time. Not only did they still have work to do, but the others wouldn't let them hear the end of it. Especially Bahorel, who loved almost nothing more than poke fun at his roommate. Enjolras could have asked Courfeyrac, but to the same result. He mulled over the idea until it finally dawned to him : maybe they could see each other out of meeting time ! It was so easy, a perfect idea ! To be fair, it was 3 AM when it dawned on him, and it seemed like a genius idea at the time.

Now that he finally knew what to do, there was a new obstacle : actually do it. It meant actually invite him. Going to Feuilly, tell him that he wanted to spend more time with him. Feuilly would know that Enjolras was appreciating his conversation and company. Well, Enjolras hoped that he did. After all, he didn't want his friend to feel like he was bothering him, right ? But did Feuilly feel good about their talks, at least ? Or did he just humor him because he felt sorry for the blond kid who needed someone to entertain him, the one who clung to him because he showed him some attention ? Okay, that one wasn't really fair. After all, he did have qualities, didn't he ? Or he wouldn't have gathered a whole club around him, and such good friends. And Feuilly wasn't the kind of person to endure something that bothered him without telling it exactly like it was.

So it was more or less certain that Feuilly did really enjoy their moments together. But did he want more, too ? Or was he content with what they had ? Or did he want... less ? Maybe. Maybe he wanted to breath a little, spend time trying to pin Bahorel on the table for a count of three, or braid Jehan's hair with Cosette, or draw tarot cards with Musichetta, or read, or... anything else, really. Maybe he wanted some time for himself, he already had so few of it. Maybe he just didn't want to say it. When he came to that part of his reflexions, Enjolras invariably shook his head, chasing away the bad feeling squeezing his chest. No, if Feuilly really didn't enjoy their time together, he wouldn't have wasted time with him. Feuilly did like their time together. Feuilly did like... him ?

What ? Where did that come from ? That was... a logical course of thoughts, of course, Feuilly did seem to like him but... why did he think that ? Why did it come into the conversation like that ? And... why did it feel him with a strange feeling in his chest ? A strange, warm feeling that spread and make his heart beat a little faster. That was... strange. That was the kind of warm feeling Courfeyrac sometimes talked about, when he had seen someone he might fancy. Did that mean...? No, that couldn't be. Enjolras vowed to push the feeling under the rug and never, ever think about it again.

Finally, after a long, very long discussion with himself, Enjolras finally decided to take the step and invite Feuilly for coffee. He spent at least fifteen minutes trying to compose a message that wasn't too eager or distant, just casual enough. Not easy for someone who never did things casually. That wasn't him at all. Enjolras did all things with fiery passion, and that included sending texts. But he had to rein himself a little. No need to scare him now.

The half-hour it took for Feuilly to answer was awful. More than awful. Enjolras had never felt so bad. Except maybe after a violent protest when he got most of his face bruised and couldn't even move because of broken ribs. Okay, so maybe he had already felt so bad, but not that kind of bad. Not the angry burning in his veins after a bad law was passed despite their efforts. Not the discouraging feeling of helplessness that sometimes took him in the middle of the night. Not even that gut-clenching feeling he got when he had to visit his parents' estate. Well, it had a hint of that, in the way his stomach seemed to be squeezed, but he was way more agitated than those times, feeling like pacing back and forth. And he sensed something light in his chest, and warm too.

The soft beeping of his cellphone startled him, and he almost dropped it in his haste to pull it out. He unlicked it with trembling hands. His heart was beating so wildly it was threatening to jump out of his chest at any moment. The letters danced in front of his eyes for a few seconds before settling into words. Two words, in fact. "okay" and "when ?". He re-read them twice. Feuilly had always been a man of few words. But those were positive words ! He agreed ! He wanted to see him outside of the ABC meetings ! He did want to spend more time with him ! If he managed to fix a date, of course. A coffee date, that would be perfect. Everyone knew Feuilly didn't time to indulge in anything else than reading in the subway and going to their meetings. A coffee date would be perfect for him. Five o'clock, after his shift, at the nicest coffee joint he knew, the one that had that fantastic organic coffee they both loved. He just needed to invite him. Which only took him three tries to manage to write something that could pass as relaxed. Once done, he carefully put the phone down. And prepared himself for the twenty-four anguished hours of waiting.

The next day, without fault, he was at the coffee shop. A glance at his watch showed him that he was fifteen minutes early. Well, good. He wouldn't miss the time by accident like this. Now he just needed to wait. He pulled up an article on his phone and started reading to pass the time, and forget about the pinch in his stomach. He tried not looking at the time too much, but it was hard. Minute by minute, it was passing. Five minutes left... then two... finally, five o' clock came... and went. And no Feuilly. Enjolras tried not to feel bad. Feuilly was a very busy man, and probably was running late because of work. Or the subway. Nothing bad. Of course.

Finally, while he was pondering on if sending a text would be seen as overbearing or annoying, Feuilly's beloved red and white hat appeared between two people, small orange curls escaping from the brim. Its owner made his way through the crowd, and Enjolras walked to meet him.

\- You made it, he said, relieved.

\- Of course I did, Feuilly answered. I told you I would.

\- And I didn't doubt you.

That... sounded a little sappy, but Feuilly didn't seem to mind. Enjolras went to order their drinks, glad to have something to do. Feuilly almost jumped on the cup offered to him, warming his fingers on the cardboard.

The park on the other side of the road was not as packed as the sidewalk, and they walked along the path, side by side, enjoying their drinks and making small talk about their day. Enjolras couldn't help but steal little glances at Feuilly from time to time. He seemed to really appreciate his pumpkin spice latte - Enjolras had remembered it was his favourite -, drinking it slowly, his eyes even shining a little. The steam from the cup had turned his nose and cheeks a cute pink. He looked happy like that, perfectly content with the situation.

\- Are you alright ? Feuilly suddenly asked.

Enjolras realized he must have zoned out and forgot to answer him.

\- Ah, yes, he quickly said. I'm just... distracted. I think.

\- Too much on your mind ?

\- You can say that.

Too much, yes... But opposite to his usual preoccupations, his mind was now filled with the speckles of gold shining in Feuilly's eyes and dancing on his hair, and his relaxed smile, and the freckles scattered on his nose. And the way he talked.

They sat on a bench, side by side. Maybe a little closer than usual, since Feuilly's arm kept brushing against Enjolras' side, making him shiver. It wasn't due to a lack of space, of course, since they were the only ones sitting there. He tried to act casual, pulled a book out of his bag, opened it at the page with the bent corner and showed him the text he wanted his advice on. Feuilly immediatly dove in - he couldn't resist a book - and started commenting along his reading. Enjolras was listening intently, as he always did, but his mind kept focusing on Feuilly's mouth. And he wondered how it would feel to kiss him. Would he feel all that passion, the fire he always put in his arguments ? Or just the coffee he drunk by the gallon ? Or something else, something purely Feuilly ?

And where did those ideas come from ? When did he go from spending time with his friend who he loved talking with, to wanting to kiss him and taste the pumpkin spice on his lips ? When did he start to want to kiss people anyway ? Well, if he had to choose someone to kiss, yes, maybe he would opt for Feuilly, because of all the reasons for which Feuilly was his beloved friend. Beloved, yes. That was the word. Precious. Valued. Irreplacable. Because Feuilly was nice and interesting, and ruthless when he needed or when some anvils had to be dropped, and always there when Enjolras needed him, whatever the reason. And he would probably be lost without him.

\- Enjolras ? You there ?

A hand in an orange mitten waved in front of him, pulling him out of his reverie. He quickly smiled to reassure his friend :

\- Yes, of course, I'm listening.

\- Is there something in your mind ?

There was a hint of concern in his tone, and Enjolras felt guilty for worrying him. He could lie, of course, tell him that it was nothing concerning him, that he was alright. But Enjolras was never one to lie, not even on personnal matters. Of course, it could change everything. Feuilly might deem him disgusting, or at least, not want to hang out with him anymore. He might take his distances, and abandon their late-night talks. Enjolras wasn't ready to lose that, but he needed to do something, anything, to get rid of the weird sensation in his chest. All this went through his mind in a second, and decided him to answer :

\- I was thinking... that I would like to kiss you.

All this considered, Feuilly looked... not too surprised. His eyebrow rose, and he nodded a little, but didn't run away or slap him.

\- Kissing me ? he repeated.

\- Yes. I've been thinking about it. Of course, he quickly added, I'm not saying that I asked you to come here just for this. I was very interested in getting your opinion on that text, really, and the idea has just crossed my mind, and...

He was rambling. Any second now, Feuilly would bolt out of his seat and run away and leave him with his half-drunk coffee, leaving only behind an empty cardboard cup and a smell of pumpkin and ink.

Feuilly didn't bolt. He didn't even scream or yell. He just looked at him with his usual half-smile, and waited for him to be done.

\- Only you, he remarked, would try to justify wanting to kiss someone, and not kiss them.

\- Of course not ! Enjolras cut him. I mean, how would I know you would consent to it ? I can't touch you like that, in that manner, without even asking about it first. This is...

\- Are you really telling me kissing me without asking would be assault ?

\- That's what it is.

This time, Feuilly let out a small laugh.

\- You're... well you. Very you.

He sounded amused. Good. Enjolras wasn't sure he could handle Feuilly being angry, or hurt, but being laughed at, he could. Beside, Feuilly had a nice laugh. And a nice light in his eye when he was watching him like that, head tilted a little.

\- So, Feuily asked, what would you do if I gave you consent ?

Enjolras couldn't do anything but gape at him. He knew his mouth was hanging open, and he was probably looking like a goldfish, but his brain was still trying to wrap around what had just been said. Consent ? Feuilly would consent ? He would ? Did he ...? It finally dawned on him : Feuilly had just said that he would agree to be kissed. That Enjolras could kiss him, and he wouldn't kick him or slap him or anything. That he _wanted_  it.

He bent down, very slowly, attentive at any gesture Feuilly could make. But Feuilly didn't move, just waited. Their lips met briefly, just a small kiss, that sent sparks in all Enjolras' body. He didn't push it further, just enjoyed the contact. Judging by Feuilly's now full smile, he had enjoyed it too.

They looked at each other for a moment, perfectly still. Enjolras was not too sure of what to do. Kiss him again ? Ravish him on that bench ? Take back the book like nothing happened ? He was still wondering when Feuilly moved. He grabbed Enjolras' coffee, took a sip. His other hand grabbed Enjolras' and squeezed.

\- I would love to stay here and kiss you again, he said, especially when you look so cute like this, but it's starting to get cold. What do you think of going to your place, and read a little more ?

Only then Enjolras noted that Feuilly's nose and ears were red with the cold. His were probably too, judging by the burning sensation on his skin. He got up, grabbed his bookbag, waited for Feuilly to do the same. As they walked away, Feuilly took his hand, interlacing their fingers together. Enjolras handed him the coffee. They would have to talk, of course, just to know where they were going with that, what was awaiting them beyond that kiss. But for now, holding his hand and watching him, that was all Enjolras wanted.


End file.
